There and Back Again
by ellijay
Summary: Missing scenes from the second season episode "Need."


"There and Back Again" by ellijay

Summary: Missing scenes from the second season episode "Need."

Author's Notes: This is an old story, written back when SG-1 was new and shiny. I'm reposting it now mainly to have all of my fic in one place, but also in the hopes that it finds new readers or maybe makes its way back to previous readers who might want to reminisce. This story was originally published under another name, but I'm still me, many years of life experience notwithstanding, and the title and contents of the story are the same.

(Original Author's Notes: A special thanks to everyone on the SG-1 mailing list whose discussions gave me fodder to piece together what we didn't see in "Need," and especially to OzK for pointing out there wasn't just one missing scene, but many.)

* * *

The sarcophagus opened, and Daniel slowly opened his eyes. He hadn't thought it was such a good idea to use it on a healthy person, but he was all too aware of the precarious situation he was in. If he upset Shyla, she might tell her father, and her father might issue another order for the rest of the team to be put to death. He wasn't sure if Shyla would try to stop him this time. If his friends were out of the way, she could have him all to herself. She was crazy if she thought that tactic would work. Then again, maybe she really was a bit crazy. What kind of sane person would try to jump off a cliff, hoping for some imaginary love to save her? But he had been there, and he was real. As for the love part, well, she was pretty enough, and maybe he might be tempted under other circumstances. At the moment, though, the only thing he wanted to do was get out of the sarcophagus and stay out.

He lifted his head and immediately regretted it. He'd had a hangover once or twice before, but this felt like he'd gone on a week-long bender, something he'd certainly never actually done. He couldn't remember ever having such a horrible headache in his life. He was literally seeing stars, bright pinpricks and flashes of light dancing in front of his eyes and partially obscuring Shyla's face as she peered over the edge of the sarcophagus.

"Are you all right, Daniel?" She was smiling, but it was a hesitant smile, concern showing around the edges.

He let his head fall back, regretting that too as the hard surface connected with the back of his skull and caused whole new galaxies to bloom. He groaned and rolled his head to the side, blinking hard in an attempt to clear his vision.

"Daniel?" Shyla's hands were on his arm, her fingers pleasantly cool against his wrist. He realized he felt very warm, and the inside of the sarcophagus suddenly seemed much smaller. He grabbed Shyla's arm for support and pulled himself up to a sitting position, his eyes attempting to fix on a single point to keep him from noticing the spinning of the room. She slid an arm behind his back and steadied him as he pushed himself into a crouch and twisted to swing one leg over the edge of the sarcophagus, then the other. Then he was out, stumbling and falling hard against Shyla. She tried to hold him up, but he threw her off balance and they both tumbled to the floor.

He swallowed hard against the bile that was rising in his throat and leaned his head back against the sarcophagus, shutting his eyes and trying to will the vertigo away. Closing his eyes just made it worse, so he opened them again. Shyla's worried face was hovering just a few inches away from his own. "Daniel, are you all right?"

"No. Definitely not," he finally managed to answer. The effort required to get himself out of the sarcophagus had left him in a cold sweat, gasping for air. "I think I'll be okay if I just… don't… move."

"We need to get you back into the sarcophagus."

"What? No!" He jerked his head up, then slumped over against her shoulder as another blast of dizziness and throbbing pain hit him. If this didn't let up soon, he was going to be rather unpleasantly reminded of what he'd had for dinner. If he didn't pass out first.

"This happens sometimes, Daniel." Her voice was soft and soothing, so he left himself rest against her. He thought he could hear her heart beating, but maybe that was just his own pulse pounding erratically in his ears. "The only way to make it go away is to go back into the sarcophagus. Trust me. I know."

He almost nodded, but caught himself in time. Movement, any movement, was a bad idea right now. He said instead, "Okay, but I don't know how I'm going to get back in there without my head exploding." He didn't like the idea of getting back into the sarcophagus, but he liked the idea of continuing to feel like this even less.

"Your head will not explode, Daniel," she said, and he thought he could detect a hint of laughter in her voice. "I could not allow such a thing to happen to such a handsome head." He vaguely sensed her waving to the guards standing in the shadows, then he closed his eyes and let himself slip into oblivion.

* * *

The sarcophagus opened again, and yet again Daniel slowly opened his eyes. He fully expected the pain to return in full force, but it didn't. Its absence was almost pleasure to him. He very carefully sat up and looked around. Shyla was standing there with her hands behind her back, rolling very slightly up onto the balls of her feet and back again. "Better?" she asked, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. She really did have lovely lips, full and warm. Kissable lips. Daniel shook his head. Where had that thought come from? He had kissed her once already, hadn't he? Or did she kiss him? He couldn't quite remember.

"You're not feeling better?"

"No. I mean, yes, I do feel better," he replied, as he got up and out of the sarcophagus, looking back at it warily as it closed and retracted into the dais. "Much better." He squinted and pushed his glasses up on his nose, then pulled them off and attempted to wipe the unbroken lens on his sleeve. He put them back on and blinked, then pulled them off again and held them up to the light. They were clean enough, but something didn't seem quite right. Maybe it was just the cracks in the shattered lens.

"Is there something wrong with your glass circles? Other than their being broken, I mean."

"What?" Daniel had almost forgotten she was standing there. "Oh, no. No, they're fine. So. I did what you wanted. I hopped back into your sarcophagus, not just once but twice now. Fortunately, the results were better the second time around, or you'd be wearing my dinner right now. What time is it anyway?" He thought he could see sunlight in the corridor outside of the reception hall.

"It is just after dawn and looks to be a glorious day. Don't you think so?" She was smiling again, always smiling, and standing next to him holding onto his arm somewhat possessively.

"Dawn? You left me in that thing all night?" He pulled his arm away from her.

"Yes." She was frowning now, apparently a bit confused, or at least seeming to be confused. It was hard to tell what was artifice with her and what was genuine. "It was necessary. Otherwise, you would not have felt any better than you did before. I thought you wanted to feel better."

And he did feel better. Much better, he realized. Better than he had felt in a long time, in fact. Healthy, well-rested, calm. He drew in a deep breath and looked around. Everything seemed a bit blurry, so he took his glasses off again and found he could see better without them. Strange. He peered at his glasses suspiciously, then shrugged and folded them up, searching in vain for a pocket somewhere in his robes. Shyla held out her hand, and he gave them to her without further comment. He had other, more important things to think about. "My friends?"

"They're fine. I told you. I instructed the guards to treat them well."

"Oh." He did seem to remember that, although not all that clearly. It bothered him that he was having trouble recalling what had happened just the previous evening, but he set the thought aside. He would have time later to ponder the effects of the sarcophagus, after the rest of the team had been freed from the mines. "Can I go and see them?"

"I don't think that would be wise." She bit her lip. Such a lovely, lovely lip. "My father was angry that you went to see them yesterday. He told me that if I wish to continue seeing you, you cannot be seen consorting with the workers in the mine. It would reflect poorly on me."

"So my friends are supposed to suffer to protect your image?" He had meant the words to be angry, but they came out sounding half-hearted. He was beginning to feel like he would get nowhere with either insistence or persuasion, and he simply didn't have the means to try and force the issue, short of taking Shyla hostage. That would probably get him killed, and the rest of SG-1 would be sure to follow. The guards had been about ready to kill them all on the cliff, and he'd been saving Shyla then, not threatening her. Not that she'd made any attempt to clarify that to her father.

"Your friends are not suffering. I have already told you this."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"I suppose I haven't done anything to earn that trust." She looked over her shoulder and gestured to one of the guards, who stepped forward and awaited her command. "Go to the mines and see to it that Daniel's friends are given a good meal. Tell them they will be free soon."

The guard nodded and left to carry out his task.

"Does that help?" She asked, turning her smile on Daniel yet again. Such a nice smile, and so nice to be smiled at for once, not ignored or glared at or reprimanded for doing something impulsive.

"That's a start." He stared at her for a moment without knowing why he was staring. She seemed to enjoy it, though, and as long as she was happy, nothing would happen to the rest of the team.

She sidled up to him, hands tucked behind her back, and gazed up at him. "Would you like to try the sarcophagus again? It gets better each time."

"Really?" He looked down at her. She was standing very close to him, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek, warm breath, so sweet and alive. He tore himself away from her gaze and took a step away from her, reestablishing his personal space. Best to keep that space. For now, at least. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Why?" she asked innocently, closing the gap between them again. He didn't step away this time. He didn't want to offend her. "It won't hurt you. I use it all the time, and it doesn't hurt me. On the contrary. It makes me feel like I could fly."

"Oh, so that's what you were doing on that cliff." He was suddenly annoyed with her, tired of playing along with her games. "And here I thought you were trying to kill yourself. I should've just let you fly away and saved myself a lot of trouble."

She frowned, pouted really. "I'm not so much trouble, but I can be if you want it that way."

"No, no," he answered, backing up again. He didn't quite know what to make of her, and her comment unsettled him. She seemed sweet enough on the outside, but there was something darker lurking just beneath the surface. Maybe it was just the threat of her father's wrath. He really did need to be careful. "I try to avoid trouble. It does a good enough job of finding me on its own without me going and looking for it."

"I could show you what it is to never know trouble again, Daniel." Yet again she closed the gap between them. "No pain, no fear, no death. Only wonderful, beautiful life. The sarcophagus can make all of that possible for you as it has for me. The only thing it hasn't brought me is an end to loneliness, but you're here now so that doesn't matter anymore. It's not such a horrible thing that I ask. You would do anything for the safety of your friends, would you not? They mean that much to you?"

"Yes," he responded hesitantly, not liking where this was heading. She had managed to slowly back him physically towards the sarcophagus, and now she was working on him mentally. One part of him was screaming a warning, but another part was asking what harm there could be. Sure, it gave him a whopping headache the first time, but the second time, he felt much better. Maybe it would just be easier to give in, to make her happy. He would like to make her happy. He knew what loneliness was, and if he could ease that for someone else… "All right, but just once more."

He did insist, though, that he be allowed to go to the Stargate to send a message back to the base. He explained that they would be overdue soon, and if much time passed without some word from the team, reinforcements would be sent to find them. Shyla reluctantly agreed, but she sent him heavily guarded and probably with instructions to the guards to stop him if he tried to send any kind of warning. He didn't want to do that, though. That would almost certainly lead to bloodshed, and he certainly didn't want that. He could handle this diplomatically.

* * *

Down in the mines, a brief rest period had been called. Jack and Carter slowly and carefully sat down on the nearest rock, but Teal'c simply laid down his pick. Jack glared at him. "Don't you ever get tired?"

"Yes, eventually I will grow weary."

"Weary? Hell, I think I left 'weary' behind a long time ago." Jacked shifted around uncomfortably, one hand rubbing his lower back.

A guard approached them, planted his feet and crossed his arms across his chest. "The princess sent a messenger to tell you that you will be free soon. She asked that you be fed." He gestured to a boy who hovered behind him. The boy scuttled forward and handed each of them a small bowl of some kind of stew. Jack sniffed at it experimentally and was pleasantly surprised to find it actually smelled appetizing. He stuck a finger into the bowl and tasted the stew, then shrugged and nodded to Carter and Teal'c. All three dug in with gusto.

"Enjoy your meal," the guard said with a sneer. "It will be the last you get unless the princess orders you to be fed again. I would warn you not to count on that, though. She is easily distracted." He turned and walked away.

Jack made a face and stuck out his middle finger at the guard's retreating back.

* * *

Once more the sarcophagus opened, and once more Daniel opened his eyes. No headache this time. He felt very, very good, in fact. Happy even. Relaxed. He stood up quickly and hopped down to the floor. He felt light on his feet. Shyla was sitting at the table, platters of food and goblets of wine spread out before her. She smiled and beckoned to him. He walked swiftly over to her, grabbed her hand, pulled her to her feet and swung her around. "I feel wonderful! You were so right. Thank you." She demurred, but he insisted on thanking her again. "I haven't felt this good in I don't know how long." He sat down and began to eat, plucking grapes from a bunch and popping them into his mouth one after the other, washing them down with gulps of wine. "And I haven't been this hungry in I don't know how long."

Shyla sat down and folded her hands on the table, watching him with a twinkle in her eye. "Perhaps after you eat, you would like to try it again?"

He paused, torn between wanting to do just that and wanting to try to talk Shyla into letting him go down to the mines. He wanted to try talking to her father again, too. If he could show Jack and Sam how wonderful the sarcophagus was, what amazing powers it had… But he would have to get them free first, and he wouldn't be able to do that if he was in the sarcophagus himself. "No, I don't think so," he finally decided, although it was a difficult choice. He picked up the goblet again and squinted at it, realizing he could see the fine detail of its engraving even though he wasn't wearing his glasses. "That's odd."

"What's odd?"

"I can see without my glasses. I mean, see clearly. Very clearly."

"Just think what else the sarcophagus might do if you try it again."

It was tempting, but part of him was also disturbed by his improved vision. Then again, they knew so little about the sarcophagus, how it worked, what it did. He could research it directly while he was here. "Maybe later." He yawned. He was suddenly very, very sleepy.

"Maybe later. Maybe sooner," Shyla said as she reached over and laid her hand over his. So warm, and he felt so cold suddenly. Cold and very, very tired. He realized as he slipped off into unconsciousness that she had drugged him.

* * *

When the sarcophagus opened this time, Daniel's eyes snapped open and he practically vaulted down to the floor, anger burning through his veins like wildfire. Shyla was sitting at the table again, another meal spread before her, smiling innocently, as though she had done nothing wrong. He wanted nothing more than to get his hands around her neck, to choke the breath from her. How dare she!

He advanced on her, the rage in him so intense that every muscle in his body was taut, ready to spring, to pounce on the little bird and tear it to shreds. Her smile faded, and she stood up, knocking the chair over and stumbling on it as she called for the guards. They were on him in an instant, pulling him down to the ground. He struggled. He even tried to bite them, but he had no chance against their strength.

Shyla appeared above him, holding a goblet in her hand. She knelt by him, slid a hand under his head and attempted to tip the goblet towards his mouth. He shut his lips tightly and tried to twist his head away, but all he succeeded in doing was causing her to spill some of the liquid over his face. Some went into his eyes, stinging them shut, and some went into his nose, causing him to gasp and cough. She saw her opening and shoved the goblet brutally into his mouth, the hard, cold edges cutting into his tongue and the sides of his mouth. Wine filled his mouth, and reflexes took over, gagging, choking, swallowing. He swallowed again and again until he'd swallowed it all. He sagged against the floor then as lassitude seeped slowly through every limb. It was fast-acting, whatever it was. God, he hated her!

As he slipped back into unconsciousness, he felt her fingers gently pushing his hair back and heard her voice whispering next to his ear that he would be all right, that she would never hurt him, that she was not such a terrible person, that she knew he would learn to love her, that she could not bear it if he went away and left her alone again, so alone, all alone.

* * *

The next time the sarcophagus opened, Daniel didn't even bother to open his eyes. He just lay there, accepting defeat. There was nothing he could do. He had let his friends down. They trusted him, and he had failed them.

"Daniel?" Shyla's voice. He ignored it. "Daniel? Open your eyes."

She was nothing if not persistent. He still refused to open his eyes, but he did say, "Why bother?"

"Don't you want to come and have something to eat?"

"Why? So you can drug me again?"

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I was afraid you would try to leave. You don't want to leave, do you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does, Daniel. Please, look at me."

He finally opened his eyes. Not for her, but for his friends. He had to try. No matter how miserably he failed, he still had to try.

"Good. That's better." Shyla smiled and held out a hand. He sat up, but he wouldn't touch her. If he touched her, that would be the end of his resistance. Just looking at her was difficult enough, just seeing the sadness and the painful hope in her eyes. It was within his power to make the sadness go away. She would be happy, her father would be satisfied, his friends could go free. He would do that for them. He would stay here, give up everything he had been fighting for, if only he could make her happy, if only his friends were safe.

She continued to hold out her hand, but he wouldn't take it. He was standing on the edge of an abyss, uncertain of which way to turn, not knowing if he would fall or fly if he jumped.

Her smile faded. "Oh, Daniel," she sighed. "Why are you so stubborn? Am I really such a terrible person? Is the thought of being with me so hateful?"

"No. No, it's not. The thought is… very appealing. That's the problem. I have a wife, Shyla, a wife whom I love very much." There. He'd admitted it. He had wanted to tell her earlier, but he'd been all too aware Shyla's fascination with him was very likely all that was keeping him and the other team members alive.

She dropped her hand and stepped away from the sarcophagus. Several emotions flickered in succession across her features, shock, disappointment, anger. "You're married?" He nodded. "Then your wife is waiting for you, back on your world?"

He hesitated. If he told her that yes, Sha're was waiting for him, would she let him go? Would she let his friends go? Or would she have him thrown back into the mines and forget about them, let them be ground away to nothing under the rocks? He couldn't take that chance. The only hope they had was pacification, keeping Shyla satisfied so her father would relent and let them go. Or keep her satisfied until her father died, which might be very soon. "No. She's not waiting for me. She was taken by a Goa'uld." The truth, so bitter.

"Oh, Daniel. I'm so sorry." He almost believed she was. "Then she's lost to you forever."

"Yes." A lie, or maybe a truth. It didn't matter. He dropped his head and closed his eyes. There was no emotion in him, only a hollow, empty loneliness. Shyla touched his arm, but he didn't open his eyes. If he looked at her, she'd steal even the loneliness away from him.

"Rest, Daniel," she said, pushing him gently back down into the sarcophagus. "You will feel better in the morning." Maybe he would. Maybe he should just give in. It would be so much easier.

* * *

The sarcophagus opened, and Daniel's eyes slowly slid open. His entire body was relaxed to the point that he almost felt he didn't have a body. But the light, the sounds, the smells; the oddly heightened sensation of fabric sliding over skin as he stirred. The input was almost overwhelming. It was as if his senses were finally awake after a lifetime of sleeping. He sat up feeling as though he were in a fog, but it was the kind of fog that concentrated awareness, that made every sound and scent its own distinct reality.

Shyla was there, her soft and lovely eyes shining in the golden light of morning. She was so very, very beautiful. Nothing else mattered, only her, her and her happiness, the happiness that would be his gift to her. He took her offered hand, stepped out of the sarcophagus and into her arms. He kissed her, softy and gently and so deeply that it seemed it would go on forever.

They finally parted, and Shyla looked at him in wonder. "You slept well?"

"Oh, yes. Very well. Better than I ever have." _Better than you ever will again_ , whispered a small voice in a corner of his mind. He ignored it.

"Are you hungry?" Shyla gestured towards a table heavily laden with every kind of food imaginable. Daniel paused, assessing his condition, but he didn't seem to be either hungry or thirsty. He shook his head. "A walk, then?" she suggested. "It's a glorious morning. Share it with me?"

He nodded, telling her they should stop by the Stargate so he could send another message. Everything was under control. He would handle it. No need for alarm.

* * *

The morning truly was glorious. The woods were glorious. Trees, such wonderful things. Shyla had been right, and he had been a fool to dismiss her fascination with the trees. He'd never really looked at them before, never really appreciated their perfect balance and beauty, the regal arch of their branches, swaying in the breeze, the way the sunlight danced among the leaves and flittered down to touch their upturned faces.

He embraced her, held her against him with all his might, crushing her until she protested. He let her go, and she laughed and kissed him, a lingering kiss full of promise. She led him back to the palace, to her bed, to oblivion. Nothing else in the world could possibly be so sweet. What few doubts were left in him were washed away, nothing but flotsam drifting away on the tide.

* * *

Daniel stood with one arm across his chest, the other hand raised to form a prop for his chin. He looked at the sarcophagus appraisingly. Such power, such wonders. He hadn't even begun to explore the possibilities. Shyla crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her warm body pressing against his back, distracting him. She nuzzled up against his neck, her soft lips sending shivers down his spine.

"I wonder," he mumbled as he turned around to enjoy her attention more thoroughly.

"What do you wonder?" she asked between kisses.

"What it would be like to be in the sarcophagus with someone else."

She paused and pulled back from him a bit, studying him with eyes alight with interest. "I don't know. The thought never occurred to me. I'm not sure two people would even fit in there together."

"Why don't we find out?" He grinned mischievously at her, pulling her towards the sarcophagus, tugging at her robes as they went, leaving a trail of clothing behind them.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but they finally managed it, facing one another in a tangled embrace, arms and legs folded together at crazy angles. As the sarcophagus closed, wrapping them in yet another embrace of darkness alive with energy, they held onto one another tightly, as if nothing else in the world mattered, as if their very survival depended upon it. Their lips touched, their bodies pressed together, but it was more than that. They melted together, blending into a swirling world of sensations so intense that it was almost unbearable, pleasure dancing so close to pain it was impossible to tell the difference.

When it was over, they did it again. And again. Until Shyla got worried her father might catch them, so they crept quietly back to her room. The lingering aftereffects were quite amazing.

* * *

"He didn't mean it." Sam knew the words sounded like rhetoric with no more meaning than an uncaring "how are you?" Daniel was obviously not himself. There was something very, very wrong, and she was worried sick about it.

The Colonel, though, was just as obviously royally pissed off. "No respect. I'll show him no respect," he muttered as he paced around aimlessly. He grabbed a pick and began slamming it furiously into the rock. "There's your respect, Daniel. There and _there_ and THERE." He punctuated each "there" with a swing of the pick, then threw it down.

"Sir," Sam said gently, carefully reaching out to touch his arm. He jerked away from her and began to pace back and forth, black fury forcing animation into a body that had to be every bit as aching and exhausted as her own.

"Sir, please," she tried again, this time a little more forcefully. "He's not himself. You could see that as well as I could. The sarcophagus must've done something to him, altered his brain chemistry maybe. That wasn't really him talking."

"Oh yes it was. He's been wanting to say that to me from day one, the little shit. He just never had the guts."

"You're being unreasonable."

"Unreasonable?" He paused in his pacing and glared at her. "Unreasonable? Daniel's the one who's being unreasonable. He's supposed to be getting us out of here, and instead he's off getting high on the sarcophagus, and probably having a grand ol' time screwin' around with Shyla, too."

Sam didn't say anything. She just stared at him, a bit shocked at what he was implying. Would Daniel…? Then again, Daniel had just said some things she wouldn't have expected to hear coming out of his mouth under normal circumstances.

Teal'c was looking at the Colonel too, his face inscrutable as ever but seeming somehow accusatory. "I suppose you agree with her?" the Colonel asked as he stabbed a finger at Sam.

"Yes," Teal'c replied matter-of-factly. "I do. The sarcophagus is a powerful machine. It is certainly the cause of Daniel Jackson's strange behavior."

The Colonel grimaced and slammed his fist into the open palm of his other hand, then spread both his hands to indicate he was attempting to regain his composure. He sat down again, wincing as he rubbed at his thigh. "Okay, so the sarcophagus has got him all strung out, but that's still no excuse. He should be fighting it."

"With all due respect, Sir, it's not always that simple," Sam said.

"Why do you always say 'with all due respect' just before pointing out someone's wrong?"

Sam blinked. Did she do that? Really?

The Colonel waved a hand at her and said, "Never mind. You _are_ right. It's not always that simple. I know. Believe me, I know."

"Sir?" Sam asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Long story, Carter. Let's just say I wasn't always the nice, loveable, clean-cut Jack O'Neill you know."

"Skeletons in your closet? You, Sir?"

"Oh, yeah. Enough to keep an entire convention of orthopedists occupied."

Teal'c quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Why would there be skeletons in your closet? Do humans not bury their dead?"

The Colonel laughed, then grimaced as he rolled his shoulders and braced his back with his hand. "It's just a figure of speech. It means you have secrets."

"There will be no secrets here," interrupted the guard as he came by on his rounds. "Only work. Move!"

Sam sighed. Just when things were getting interesting. Hell, some juicy story about the Colonel's past might've been the highlight of her whole day. Boy, were her standards sinking or what? Amazing what a seriously unhealthy does of back-breaking labor could do to a girl.

They all made a show of retrieving their picks and hacking away at the surrounding rock, but as soon as the guard had turned the corner, the Colonel leaned towards Teal'c and Sam and whispered, "Look, I want you two to keep your eyes peeled for an opportunity to escape. I don't think we can rely on Daniel at this point."

"What about you?" Sam protested.

"I'm going to see if I can find a way to get Daniel out of here."

"But–"

"No buts. I'm still the commander here, even though I may not look like it, and I smell like a pile of month-old sweaty laundry. He's still my responsibility. I'm not leaving until he does, even if I have to haul his dead carcass out of here on my back."

Sam involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

"Neither do I, Carter. Neither do I."

"But it may come to _your_ deaths if I catch you plotting escape again." Sam jumped, but the Colonel and Teal'c both just kept hammering away with their picks. The guard had apparently stopped just around the corner and had overheard everything. "Be sure that you will be watched every moment from here on out." To emphasize his point, he whacked the Colonel in the back of the knee with his staff as he left.

"God damn it," the Colonel hissed as he clutched at a rock to keep from crumpling to the ground. He caught his breath, then ground out though clenched teeth, "I'll be damned if we're going to die in this mine. If we can't escape, I'll just have to make myself a complete and utter pain in the ass until they take me to see Mr. High and Mighty. Much as I hate to say it, he seems to be our best chance, and he _will_ get us out of here, if it's the last thing he does."

* * *

Jack held onto Daniel, rocking back and forth, trying to keep his own emotions in check and just barely managing. Daniel was an adult, but sometimes he was just so much like a kid Jack either wanted to hug him or wring his neck, usually the latter, but sometimes both at the same time. But there would be ample opportunity for neck wringing later. Right now, he just wanted Daniel to be all right.

The guards arrived, and Jack waved them back. He pulled himself carefully away from Daniel, who pushed himself back against the doorjamb, his arms wrapped around his knees and his eyes unfocussed and confused. "It's gonna be okay, Daniel," Jack reassured, sliding an arm around Daniel's back and helping him up to his feet. "We're just going to take you back to the infirmary."

Daniel simply nodded and leaned against Jack. Jack thought he might make it back under his own power, but a few steps down the hall, Daniel simply collapsed. It was so sudden Jack barely managed to keep him from hitting his head on the floor. Fortunately, Doctor Fraiser arrived with two orderlies, so they rolled Daniel onto a stretcher and carried him back to the infirmary. He regained consciousness just long enough for Jack to tell him they were going to put the restraints back on, just so he didn't hurt himself. He avoided mentioning the guard Daniel had beaten, who had already been taken off elsewhere to be treated. They'd deal with that later.

Daniel mumbled a barely audible "Okay," then added, a little more clearly, "I'm sorry, Jack. So sorry."

"It's okay, kid. Just get some rest. You need it. You look like shit." The shadow of a smile played over Daniel's lips as he shut his eyes. That was a good sign, but there was still a long way to go. Apart from Daniel's physical recovery, there were still a lot of issues that needed to be resolved.

* * *

"All right, let me just cut straight to the chase. I called you here to discuss whether or not you want to allow Daniel to remain a member of SG-1." Carter looked a little taken aback, and Teal'c raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Isn't that for you and General Hammond to decide?" Carter asked.

"General Hammond has decided to leave that choice up to me, and I've decided it needs to be a team decision. I stress the word 'team.' We _are_ a team. We rely on one another. There's a basic trust that has to be there if we want to keep making it home in one piece. Daniel betrayed that trust. We have to decide if we want to give him another chance."

"With all due respect, sir," Carter began, but Jack cut her off.

"There you go with the 'due respect' again."

"Would you rather I just called you a shithead, sir?"

"Whoa! What happened to the 'due respect'?" Jack was surprised, but secretly a bit pleased as well. Sometimes he thought Carter was entirely too careful with what she said.

"Sorry." She was blushing and the tops of her ears were turning red. Carter was Carter, after all. It would be a long time before she got used to calling anyone "shithead," if ever. "I just think you're being awfully hard on Daniel."

"Yes, but believe it or not, that's what he's going to need right now."

"Tough love?"

"Well, that's kind of a sappy term for it." Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Love" was not a word he just threw about casually. "But yeah, that's basically what I'm talking about. He's not a kid, your big sister tendencies aside." Carter looked a bit offended at this comment, but she didn't say anything. "He's an adult, and he has to be held accountable for the consequences of his actions. I've pretty much got the accountability part covered, but what I need from you is a yes or no as to whether you can trust Daniel again. We're all putting our lives in one another's hands every time we step through that Stargate. I can't order you to trust anyone, but it's gotta be there if this team is going to continue to function effectively. It's your call. Both of you."

* * *

It had taken a couple of days, some of it a bit touch and go, but Daniel was finally well on the road to recovery. He was sitting up in bed, looking more like a normal patient with a hospital gown and an IV that was restoring nutrients and fluids to his dehydrated system. They had tried to get an IV into him when he was going through the worst of the withdrawal, but he kept pulling it out, even with the restraints.

Jack was glad to see him looking better, but this wasn't just a social visit. He had some serious business to discuss with Daniel.

Daniel just stared at him for a moment, as if he were trying to decide whether or not Jack was going to bite his head off. Jack let him squirm. Daniel finally broke the silence with a very hesitant, "Hi."

"Hello, Daniel. You still look like shit, but getting better." He kept his tone carefully neutral.

"Gee, thanks." There was no sarcasm in the comment, no emotion at all. Jack could see that Daniel was on his guard. Good. At least he didn't expect to be welcomed back with open arms.

"Dr. Fraiser said to tell you Sergeant Anderson – you remember him? The one you beat the crap out of?" Daniel winced. Yes, he definitely remembered and felt guilty about it. That was good too. "She said to tell you he'll be fine. Some pretty nasty cuts and bruises, a minor concussion, fractured wrist. His arm's in a sling. Not unlike the one your butt's in right now."

"I know. I really screwed up back there."

"'Screwed up' doesn't even begin to cover it." Jack could see Daniel bracing himself for a tirade, and damn it, he meant to give him one. He deserved it. "You've been on this team for over a year now. You know good and well you can't just run around doing whatever you please, not if you expect to stay on my team. And just let me remind you that it is _my_ team. My team, my rules. I'm the one who's ultimately responsible for the actions and safety of my team members. If you ever, ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll yank you off the team so fast it'll make your head spin. You'll just have to twiddle your thumbs back here while the rest of us go and try to find your wife."

Daniel looked stung by the reference to Sha're. He was probably feeling guilty about what had gone on with Shyla. Good. Jack plunged ahead, feeling like he was hitting his stride now. Nothing like a good dressing down to get the ol' juices flowing. "Look, I know you're not military, but as long as you're part of a military team, you're going to have to learn to at least act like a soldier. Which brings me back to Anderson. Lucky for you he's not pressing charges. On one condition. After his wrist is healed, you get to be his sparring partner. Let's see, how did he put it? He wants to show you how to 'whup someone's ass properly.' He's a damn good boxer. He may even teach you a thing or two. And speaking of being taught a thing or two, you're also going to be learning a little more about things like combat techniques and diplomacy."

"Oh, now there's two things that go hand-in-hand." The sarcasm was surfacing. Daniel was beginning to fight back a bit. Good, but that meant it was time to slap him down, hard.

"That just shows how little you know. You said you were trying to find a diplomatic solution, but you seem to have overlooked the fact that there's a stick in diplomacy as well as a carrot. While you were feeding carrots to your little bunny, the rest of us were being ground under the bootheels of the guards in the mine."

"Shyla said she told the guards to treat you well." The comment was half-hearted, just an excuse.

"Well, if that's her idea of 'treating someone well,' I'd hate to see her idea of torture."

"She's really not a bad person." This was said with a little more conviction.

"Maybe she is, maybe she isn't. I didn't get the chance to know her anywhere near as well as you did. But we're not talking about her. We're talking about you and the way you completely screwed up the one thing you were _supposed_ to be doing: getting our butts out of the mine as quickly as possible. There were lives at stake, Daniel. Hell, I've been in much worse places and lived to tell the tale, but that was mainly because of luck and sheer determination. Any one of us could've been the next one to be dragged out by our heels and dumped into a mass grave. That happened almost every day down there."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." He seemed contrite on the surface, but Jack got the distinct impression Daniel was just doing his best to dodge the blows. Ducking. Something he didn't ever seem to be able to do when it counted.

"That's because you didn't want to know. What the hell were you thinking, hopping back into that sarcophagus again and again? Didn't you notice there was something not on the up and up with that?"

"Yes, for your information, I did notice, but Shyla was so desperate to keep me with her." A little more animation. Good. Good. It was better than just having him sit there and take it all. A little fight was important. "She even resorted to drugging me to get me back into the sarcophagus."

"She drugged you?" Jack was taken aback. This was a new wrinkle.

"Yes. Well, a couple of times."

Uh-huh. Another feint. "And how many times did you say you used the sarcophagus?"

"A couple of dozen, I suppose." He looked away.

"So, she drugged you a couple of times. What about the other times? Did she drug you then, too?"

"No."

"So you went willingly."

"No, I didn't." He turned back to Jack, his eyes sparking with anger. "Look, Jack, I was scared silly that if I made one wrong move, her father would have you killed. He's completely unstable, Jack. It wasn't an idle threat. I just kept hoping if I did what she asked, she'd eventually convince her father to let you go. And she did."

"But it might've easily been too late, Daniel. For you as well as for us. You never give into terrorists, Daniel, no matter what, not even the pretty ones. It never leads to anything good." He kept his voice calm and even. He didn't want this to become an all-out shouting match. As much as it might be cathartic, he felt it would be counterproductive at this point.

"She's not a terrorist."

Jack stared at Daniel, willing him to examine that statement. Daniel looked away again. "She used fear to manipulate you. That's a terrorist. Look, Daniel, you're an intelligent guy, and I _do_ respect you, despite your opinion to the contrary–"

"I didn't mean–"

"No, let me finish. That's another thing. Military or not, while you're on this team, I _am_ your commanding officer, and this _is_ an official dressing down. You're making the mistake that this is a dialogue. _After_ I've said what I have to say, you can give me your side of the story." Daniel shot him an angry look, but Jack just went on. His turn to shout a bit. "Now, where was I? Ah, respect. Something we seem to be having a little miscommunication about. I do respect you, Daniel. You're intelligent, dedicated, and resourceful. But you're just too damned impetuous. Maybe you've never had to worry about anyone but yourself before, maybe you could just run off and do whatever you wanted, but now there's three other people who depend on you just as much as you depend on them.

"We never know what we're going to face when we walk through that Stargate, and each of us has to be ready to handle just about anything. You can't just take a back seat and play archeologist and linguist. Yes, those are your specialties, and naturally, we're going to look to you to do the translating and make sure we don't trample all over the local rules, but you have to be ready to take the lead at any time and in any situation. I think you understand a little better now just how important that is. So, to get back to the point, as a condition for remaining a member of SG-1, you're going to have to make a commitment to filling in some of the gaps in your training. You're not in a lecture hall or out on a dig anymore. This is real life, Daniel. This is not theory. People die in real life, but that's not going to happen on my team because someone didn't know how to handle a situation. Understood?"

Daniel glared at Jack, but he nodded his head sharply. After a moment of silence, Daniel sat up a little straighter and practically spat out, "Permission to speak, _sir_."

"You're not enlisted, Daniel. You don't have to call me 'sir.'"

"Oh, but you're my commanding officer. You just said so."

"Yes, but you're a civilian acting in a military capacity. There's a difference and you know it. So stop being a smartass and say what you're going to say. I can take it. You might've noticed I have a pretty tough hide."

The tension between them shifted and eased a bit. Daniel even managed a bit of a laugh, and Jack allowed himself a hint of a smile. This might just work out. "Yeah, I did notice," Daniel said, rubbing wearily at his eyes. "I just want you to know I did try, Jack. I didn't just forget about you. The sarcophagus did a pretty good job of scrambling my brains, but I never forgot about you."

"I know, Daniel. But trying isn't always good enough. Not when someone could end up dead. The only way you can ever live with yourself when something like that happens is to know you were prepared in every way you possibly could be, that you did everything in your power to do, but luck just wasn't on your side that day. Believe me. I know." There was a pause. So much that still needed to be said, but they would have to work that out over time. "Listen, I know you've got a lot to think about, so just take your time. Rest up. You need it. I've already talked to Carter and Teal'c. They're willing to give you another chance. So am I. Beyond that, the decision is yours."

"Okay." Daniel looked relieved, and he dropped his head back against the pillow and muttered, "I'm really am sorry, Jack." He sighed heavily. "God, I can't believe I was such an idiot."

"Yes, you were." Daniel lifted his head and glanced sharply at Jack, but Jack just smiled. He wasn't angry any more. Not at the moment. He would probably get angry about this whole incident from time to time for a while yet to come, but for the moment, he was satisfied. "I'm glad you realize that. That shows you learned something."

Daniel just nodded. Jack turned to leave, but he stopped and turned back as Daniel said, "Jack? If you see Sam or Teal'c, could you ask them to come and see me if they have a chance? I think I have some more apologies to make."

Jack thought about making some kind of remark about groveling being in order, too, but he just nodded and said, "Sure."

* * *

Daniel was leaning back against the pillows half-asleep when Sam came to see him, but he opened his eyes immediately when he heard her softly call his name. "Sam." He smiled, genuinely happy to see her.

"Hello, Daniel. Glad to see you looking human again."

"Less like shit?"

"Um, yeah, definitely. The Colonel said you and he had a talk." Daniel nodded. She fell briefly silent before hesitantly asking, "So, are you coming back?"

Daniel just looked at her for a moment. Did she seriously think he was considering not coming back to SG-1? "You know the answer to that, Sam. You guys are my family now. I know I really let you down, but if you're willing to give me another chance, I'm more than willing to take it."

"Good," she said with a nod.

"And Sam, I'm sorry for what I said to you in the lab. About you not knowing what love really is."

"It's okay, Daniel. I know you didn't mean it."

"But I did say it, and it was a heartless thing to say. I'm sorry. I wish I could take it back."

"You just did."

At that point, Teal'c appeared in the doorway. Daniel gestured for him to come in, and Sam quickly excused herself, saying she had to get back to the naquadah research. Two down, one to go.

"Colonel O'Neill said you wished to see me." Teal'c stood at what amounted to parade ground rest, his arms behind his back.

"Yes, Teal'c. I wanted to apologize."

This didn't seem to be what Teal'c was expecting. He relaxed his stance and frowned at Daniel. "Apologize?"

"For letting you down, Teal'c. For not getting you out of the mines."

"You did not let me down, Daniel Jackson. I am Jaffa. I was trained to serve and protect. It is I who failed you by allowing you to be injured."

"That was just an accident, Teal'c. You can't expect to be responsible for everything that happens."

"No. Perhaps not."

"Definitely not, and in any case, this time, I get to shoulder the blame. I'm sorry. I won't let you down like that again."

Teal'c inclined his head, then looked directly at Daniel with a very grave expression, but his eyes were smiling. That was three. Done and done.

* * *

Daniel sighed wearily as he came out of Shyla's room and shut the door behind him. He had been locked in there with her for several hours and had watched her go from sweet, calm, controlled Shyla to something more wild animal than human. He had refused to have her restrained, and now he bore the results of that decision in the form of numerous bumps, bruises and scratches. He had been the only one there, so she had taken out her fury on him. That was all right, though. It would be worth it. He even felt a little like he deserved it, even though he hadn't been the one responsible for her addiction to the sarcophagus. There were plenty of other things he _was_ responsible for.

Jack stirred from where he had been sitting in the corner, startling Daniel. "I thought you were down helping Sam get the mining equipment set up."

"I was," Jack answered, getting up and stretching, various joints producing audible pops, "But she chased me out. She said I was just getting underfoot." Daniel smiled faintly.

"How is she?" Jack went on, gesturing back at the door to Shyla's room. "It sounded like you had a banshee in there with you."

"That's not too far from the truth, actually, but she's sleeping now." He paused. "Was I that bad?" Jack nodded solemnly.

Daniel walked out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing, drawing in a deep breath of cool night air. He recalled the last time he had been standing here, how different he had felt. This was better, though. Much better.

"She really is a good person," he said, turning back to Jack. "The sarcophagus may have clouded her judgement, but she still managed to hold onto some sense of right and wrong. She really didn't want to hurt anyone. She truly does want to help her people. She just didn't know how, so she looked for other things to distract her: her dreams, the sarcophagus, me. That's all I was, really. A distraction. But I hope I can be a friend now. She needs all the help she can get."

"I know," Jack said. "That's what we're here for."

Daniel nodded and looked up at the stars, their unfamiliar patterns twinkling down at him in a very familiar way. Yes, that really was why they were here. He sighed wearily and headed back towards Shyla's room. "I shouldn't leave her alone for very long right now."

* * *

Shyla was curled up on her side on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. Daniel sat down next to her, remembering other times spent in this bed. That was gone, though, and now Shyla had to build a new future for herself and her people. She was in a lot of pain right now, and there would be uncertainty and doubt after the pain, but that would pass, as everything eventually passed away. He would go away, and she would be lonely again. Or maybe not. She would have a purpose now. That was all one needed, really.

She stirred and turned a tear-streaked, haggard face towards him. "I want to die," she said, choking on the words.

He gathered her into his arms and gently stroked her hair. "No, I don't think you really do. I think you want to jump off that cliff and fly."

She clung to him with shaking hands, her face hot against his neck. "Do you think I can?"

He looked down at her and smiled softly, a very different kind of smile than any he had ever shown to her before. "I know you can."

She didn't say another word, and the trembling gradually ceased and her breathing evened out until he knew she was asleep. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, closed his eyes, and let himself drift off into the first true rest he'd had in many days. He dreamed of wings and blue skies and pure sunlight streaming through the branches of trees, of far-off places and of a heart that would always be home, no matter how long it took him to find it again.

* * *

"All are needed by each one;  
Nothing is fair or good alone."

– Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Each and All"

* * *

The End


End file.
